


Today's Weather (Brought To You By An Obscure Branch Of The U.S. Forest Service)

by T Verano (t_verano)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: 2012 TS Secret Santa prompt "White Christmas", Christmas, M/M, Whipped Cream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2020-04-05 23:52:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19051033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_verano/pseuds/T%20Verano
Summary: Blair wants a white Christmas, and he's going to get it. One way or another.





	Today's Weather (Brought To You By An Obscure Branch Of The U.S. Forest Service)

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2012 TS Secret Santa Drabble Days prompt "white Christmas"

Blair woke up to the steady sound of rain against the skylight. He frowned at the gray light filtering into the loft; so much for the forecast. Easing out of bed as quietly as he could, he went downstairs to take a leak and brush his teeth.

And raid the refrigerator, since it was _raining._

Halfway back up the stairs, he heard Jim grumble something in a _waking up now_ kind of way. Perfect timing — "Merry Christmas," Blair said, stopping beside Jim's side of the bed with a smile.

Jim cracked one eyelid open briefly. "Mmmh."

Blair rolled his eyes at Mr. Christmas Morning Sunshine and pulled the covers back to give himself a clear field, as he crouched down on the floor beside the bed and got to work.

"Sandburg." Jim's voice sounded wide-awake, suddenly. And also disbelieving. "You're squirting whipped cream on my chest."

"Yep," Blair agreed. He picked out a second location on Jim's chest and kept going.

"Let me guess," Jim said, his eyes on the small white shape Blair had just finished, "you're trying to give me oversized nipples? _Cold_ oversized nipples?"

Blair huffed as he squirted whipped cream on another nearby appealing bit of pectoral landscape. "Those are trees, Jim."

"Trees."

"Snow-covered trees. We couldn't go up to the cabin, we're stuck with rain, so this is my white Christmas." He looked up from his latest tree and narrowed his eyes at Jim. "Roll with it, okay?"

Jim snorted. "If you're planning on licking all those 'trees' off, you're going to end up in sugar shock. Who eats whipped cream in the morning, anyway?"

"Hot chocolate, Belgian waffles —"

"Let me rephrase that: who eats their weight in whipped cream?"

"It's not that much."

"I don't know, Chief, it's starting to look like a forest, not just a couple of lopsided trees."

Jim had a point, actually. Blair put the can of Reddi-wip down and locked eyes with Jim for a moment before ducking his head and taking a slow swirling lick of the closest 'tree'. Jim's nipple — his actual nipple, not a Reddi-wip nipple — was under there somewhere; when Blair worked his way down to it and curled his tongue around the last traces of whipped cream, adding some judicious suction, Jim groaned.

"I really wanted a white Christmas, Jim," Blair said, maybe— just maybe — a little plaintively, as he tilted his head up, ready to decimate the next snow-covered tree.

Jim beat him to it. His finger scooped up the whole tree and landed on Blair's lips, messily, and Blair sucked the finger in and fooled around with it a little.

Then he was laughing as Jim made a frustrated sound and tugged him up from the floor to level the remaining forest in one fell smush of chest against chest, and Jim was saying, "Where's that can? I'll show you a white Christmas," and hey, it was snowing _somewhere,_ that was all Blair really needed.

_This_ was all Blair really needed.


End file.
